Текст песни The Killers - Losing Touch [Live]

Console me in my darkest hour
Convince me that the truth is always gray
Caress me in your velvet chair
Conceal me from the ghost you cast away

I'm in no hurry
You go run and tell your friends I'm losing touch
Fill their heads with rumors of impending doom
It must be true

Console me in my darkest hour
And tell me that you always hear my cries
I wonder what you got conspired
I'm sure it was the consolation prize

I'm in no hurry
You go run and tell your friends I'm losing touch
Fill the night with stories, the legend grows

Of how you got lost but you made your way back home
You sold your soul like a Roman vagabond, yeah

I heard you found a wishing well in the city
Console me in my darkest hour then you throw me down

I'm in no hurry
You go run and tell your friends I'm losing touch
Fill your crown with rumors, impending doom
It must be true

But you made your way back home
You sold your soul like a Roman vagabond
And about how you got lost
But you made your way back home

You went and sold your soul
An allegiance dead and gone
I'm losing touch